Guardian Angel
by independentwriter-137
Summary: There's a mysterious masked vigilante patrolling the streets of Max's home town, and he's got wings. Max soon discovers that superheroes don't exist in just comic books anymore and they're always the person you least expect. Superhero AU. FAX!
1. 01 Masks

_A/N. I'm back with a new story and a new format for things like my author's notes. If you've read my Hart of Dixie fanfics, you'll recognize it. Anyway, more importantly, here's my new multi-chap story. I've never seen one like this before in any book fandoms and I think it's the first of its kind in the MR archive *claps happily*. I really hope you guys like it as much as my other stories! I'll probably be alternating Max's and Fang's point of view._

* * *

**-Guardian Angel-**

Chapter 1: Masks

* * *

_FANG_

The great thing about masks is how well they hide your face.

Like now for instance.

I'm knocking out two thugs who are almost two times my size in less than five seconds and they have no idea they're getting their asses handed to them by a fifteen year old.

The first thug attempts to punch me. The key word there being _attempts._ Just as he swings his arm forward, I catch it and yank him forward, my foot slightly extended so he trips over it as well. His jaw hit the hard concrete so hard that I'm pretty sure he'll lose a few teeth.

The second thug is slightly more prepared and wields a crowbar. He charges toward me, belly fat jiggling slightly as he does so. I dodge him easily, not wanting to waste more energy than I have to. He swings again and I duck. As I do so I land a solid punch to his gut. The wind goes out of him and I use that moment to land another hard punch to his jaw, knocking him out instantly.

The other two guys suddenly don't seem so confident to take me on; they're backing away slowly and dropping the baseball bats in their hands. Any second now, they'll make a run for it and they'll have no clue who I am. Not a single idea as to who the masked vigilante is.

See? Masks are great.

Two down and two on the run. Now where was ugly number—

"_Oof_," I hear someone say behind me and I turn around just in time to see the last guy passed out on the ground. A girl's standing over him with a satisfied smile on her face.

Her blonde hair is tangled, her clothes are a little dishevelled, and her lip is bleeding from where a guy took a cheap shot, but otherwise she looks good, just as beautiful as usual. I feel my heart beat quicken slightly like it usually does when I'm around her and I have to clear my throat slightly before I speak.

"You okay?" I ask.

She grimaces and touches her left side, hissing from pain, "Little banged up, but I'll live." She wipes some blood from her lip and looks me up and down. "Thanks, for the save. Those guys were lucky they outnumbered me five to one; otherwise I would've done a lot more damage to them than you did."

I hide a smile, "Don't doubt you for a second," I say, looking at the guy I'm pretty sure she just gave a concussion to.

"So," she says, "you're the famous Fang, masked vigilante, our very own local superhero."

_Superhero,_ I think, _great, now I sound like I'm from a comic book._ Shrugging, I say, "I guess so, minus the Spandex and the cape, of course."

That earns a laugh from her, it's a nice laugh. "Of course," she repeats. She pauses, "I've never seen your wings up close before."

I shrug again, not really sure what to say to that. She's studying me so closely that I start to feel self-conscious.

"It's so black that I almost didn't see them, they just seem to blend in to the background, like you I guess," she muses. Her brown eyes meet mine and she smiles slightly, "They're nice."

Normally, I'd be on my way by now, patrolling the streets or something, but I decide to make a small exception. Besides, as my regular self? She would never talk to me.

"I made a promise to myself that I'd ask you this if I ever met you, so did you read too many comics growing up or do you just have a hero complex?" she jokes.

I laugh, "Something like that." Actually, I need to stop the bastards who turned me into the freak from turning more innocent kids into mutants, too, but I can't tell her that.

One of the guys starts to wake up and attempts to sit up. I use my foot to bring him back down and he doesn't try to get up again.

"Not much of a costume though, a mask, black cargo pants, and long sleeved black t-shirt? It's not exactly very creative," she tells me.

"I was aiming more for discreet than creative, I can't exactly run around wearing neon pink, can I?" I joke.

"Yeah," she agrees, "Neon pink would definitely _not_ suit you." She starts running her hands through her hair in an attempt to get rid of all the tangles. "Thanks again for saving me," she says.

"No problem," I reply.

She turns around to pick up the back pack that she dropped when she was attacked and I use this as my opportunity to leave, even if I don't want to yet.

"It's strange, you seem familiar. My name's—" she doesn't finish her sentence once she realizes I've disappeared, flew into the night.

I hide a smile as I soar through the sky, "I know exactly who you are, Max."

* * *

_A/N. So first chapter is done! Yay! Anyway, for those of you who read the last line and thought Fang was some creepy stalker dude, I just want to clear that up and say that it just means as a regular civilian, he knows Max._

_What did you think? Review please! If I only get a few I'll take it as a sign not to continue._

_Question of the Day: If you had to have mutant DNA, what would it be? (I'd go for Avian, too)_

_-Indy_


	2. 02 The Local Hero

_A/N. Yeah, so I've got exams and instead of studying, I'm writing. It's like a stress reliever, really. My brain's been on overload lately so I needed this. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You have no idea how much your support helped me through these past few days. It's really appreciated._

* * *

**-Guardian Angel-**

Chapter 2: The Local Hero

* * *

_MAX_

Normally, I don't do the whole _save-me-I'm-a-damsel-in-distress!_ thing, but now a little help wouldn't hurt. I mean five against one with the five having crow bars and baseball bats, come on, in what world is that fair?

They're grinning at me, probably thinking they've got me. "Come on, baby, let's play," one of them says, showing off his crooked teeth.

I scowl, "Play? Well, I don't know about you, but I feel like a game of tag right now."

It's almost comical how their bushy eyebrows scrunch up together. "Tag?"

"Yeah," I grin wickedly, "You're it." Then I launch a kick at the nearest guy's chest and he falls back. Before the others can react, I shove the heel of my hand at another one's nose, effectively breaking it.

I'm about to throw another punch when both my arms are yanked behind me. They're holding on so tight I think I'll have bruises on my upper arms tomorrow. I try to use my current disadvantage as a way to kick the guy coming towards me, but he grabs my foot and drops it back down.

They pull me back roughly and shove me against the wall. My head hits the wall hard and my vision blurs slightly. I don't even see the guy with a broken nose come at me with a clumsy right hook. I hear the sound of a baseball bat or two clatter to the floor as they head towards me.

My upper teeth sink into my bottom lip and I taste blood. _Great._

Through the haze of pain I manage to register that the guy's smiling. Blood from his nose is covering his teeth as he continues to smile that horrible smile at me; I've never seen anything so creepy. My blood's practically boiling at this point.

I try to move, but their grips are like iron. I cannot believe that I'm going to a victim. The mere thought of what's about to happen makes me want to puke. I can barely believe that this is it. It's going to happen to me. The tough badass in school couldn't take care of a couple guys with bats and crow bars.

They can smell defeat and I know they're waiting for me to cry, to beg, but I won't. I refuse to give them that satisfaction. I swallow hard and close my eyes tightly.

My heartbeat sounds so loud to me, I wonder if they can hear it. It's steady _du-dum du-dum_ comforts me slightly. Then I hear a drop. It's faint and I doubt anyone else heard it, but I did. Something—_someone_ is here.

Silently, I pray it's help. I don't do the damsel in distress thing, but even _I_ know when I need help.

Next thing I know, the two guys holding on to my arms are thrown down. As soon as I am released from their grip I stumble forward, releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding. I spit out some of the blood in my mouth and watch in satisfaction as the two guys go down. _Hard._

The other two run like the cowards they are. What kind of men creep up on a girl in a group?

The guy who just saved me moves fast, his reflexes like lightning. Wings out and decked out in all black, I instantly know who he is. Before I can fully process that the town's local hero is right in front of me, I see one of the thugs heading towards him. He'll never see it coming.

I pick up one of the bats they dropped when they grabbed me. As he tries to sneak up on Mr. Savior over there, I swing as hard as I can, feeling satisfied as the bat knocks him out.

The local hero whips in my direction immediately. I was right, it's him. Fang. News reports flash in my mind of him saving a store owner from robbers, taking a kid out from a burning building, and more. I've never seen him in anything but pictures before and the pictures have always been this blur of darkness in the sky as he flies off.

I'm surprised by how young he is. He can't be much older than me. His features are mostly covered by a simple black mask, but I can tell he's handsome. He towers over me by maybe five inches, but what distracts me the most is his wings. They're huge and black as midnight. Beautiful.

"You okay?" he asks.

I grimace and touch my left side, hissing from pain, "Little banged up, but I'll live." I wipes some blood from her lip and look him up and down again, still not quite believing that _this_ is the guy from the news. "Thanks, for the save. Those guys were lucky they outnumbered me five to one; otherwise I would've done a lot more damage to them than you did."

He has a ghost of a smile on his face that seems vaguely familiar, "Don't doubt you for a second," he says without a hint of sarcasm.

"So," I say, "you're the famous Fang, masked vigilante, our very own local superhero." I don't tell him Fang is one of the strangest superhero names I've ever heard, but hey, my knowledge in comics and superheros begin and end with Batman and Superman.

"I guess so, minus the Spandex and the cape, of course," he shrugs.

I laugh. "Of course," I repeat. I pause, not sure if I should comment on his wings or not, but the words slip out of my mouth. "I've never seen your wings up close before."

He shrugs and I almost ask how he got them, but I know that wouldn't be a good idea. Asking someone who just saved your ass, _Hey, how'd you get those anyway?_ seemed slightly inappropriate.

"It's so black that I almost didn't see them, they just seem to blend in to the background, like you I guess," I muse. "They're nice."

He's uncomfortable talking about his wings, I can tell, so I change the topic. Mostly because ever since he appeared on the news I've been interested in knowing more. Someone spending their nights saving people seem like someone that would be good to get to know, right?

"I made a promise to myself that I'd ask you this if I ever met you, so did you read too many comics growing up or do you just have a hero complex?" I joke. Actually, that was Angel's question to me just a few nights ago. Maybe now I can give her the answer.

He laughs, "Something like that."

One of the guys starts to wake up and attempts to sit up. He uses his foot to bring him back down and he doesn't try to get up again.

"Not much of a costume though, a mask, black cargo pants, and long sleeved black t-shirt? It's not exactly very creative," I tell him.

"I was aiming more for discreet than creative, I can't exactly run around wearing neon pink, can I?" he says.

"Yeah," I agree, "Neon pink would definitely _not_ suit you." I start running my fingers through my hair in an attempt to get rid of all the tangles. I should be heading home soon, Angel and Gazzy will worry. "Thanks again for saving me," I say.

"No problem," he replies.

I turn around to pick up the back pack that I dropped when I was attacked and just before I head home, there's one more thing that's been bugging me about him. "It's strange, you seem familiar. My name's—" I don't get to finish my sentence and I've realizes he's disappeared, flew into the night just like the news reports always said.

"Max," the words die on my lips. I watch him fly through the sky, once again nothing but a dark blur.

I grin slightly and head home as if nothing ever happened, knowing full well I have a lot to talk about when I get home.

* * *

_A/N. Tada! Max's point of view on their fateful meeting. I hope you liked it. As for the rest of the Flock, they're going to appear gradually as the story progresses._

_On a totally unrelated note, is anyone else excited for the new Boys Like Girls album?_

_Question of the Day: What's your holiday plans? (Mine is basically to chill at home with my family)_

_-Indy_


	3. 03 Wake Up

_A/N. Okay, I've got a bunch of excuses why I haven't updated in a while, but I'd rather not bore you to death with them. After all, you came to read the chapter, not a bunch of dull excuses._

_Anyway, I've got some better news! I've just made my own twitter! You're probably thinking, "only now?" Well yeah, but my account is dedicated to books, music, and writing. Nothing personal really. I hope you guys follow it, I'll give short commentary about books I've read or music I've listened to recently, you can ask me questions there, anything really. My username is: indywriter_137, please follow!____ Thanks!_

* * *

**-Guardian Angel-**

Chapter 3: Wake Up

* * *

_ FANG_

I wake up to screaming.

Horrible, helpess screaming followed by sobs and cries for help. I'd recognize that voice anywhere though. Nudge.

I'm up in less than a second and I run to her room, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Luckily, Nudge's room is just next to Iggy's room, which is right next to mine.

My mind is reeling, a thousand thoughts a second. Did the School find us? Is Nudge being attacked by Erasers? There's a bitter taste at the back of my throat and it suddenly seems like I can't get enough air.

But when I get in the room, the screaming has stopped. Nudge sobs into Iggy's shoulder as he strokes her hair gently. He murmurs comforting words to her, telling her she's alright, that she's safe.

His sightless eyes turn in my general direction and he mouths, "Another nightmare."

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you guys up. Usually my nightmares aren't this bad, well they are this bad, but usually I don't wake up screaming. It's just this time it was like I couldn't wake myself up and I felt I was one of those kids from a Nightmare on Elm's Street. It was just so horrible, we were back in that place and I—" Nudge babbles on, still sobbing the entire time. She shuts her mouth abruptly mid-sentence, which is unusual for her. Usually, we do that for her. It then strikes me that the nightmare must have really been bad if ever _Nudge_, Nudge the Chatterbox, Nudge the Nudge Channel where it's all Nudge all the time can't talk about it.

"Hey, it's fine," Iggy tells her. "They're not here, not now, ok?"

Nudge nods, her dark head bobbing up and down. She wipes her face on her sleeve and gives us a shy smile, "Sorry again."

"It's fine," I tell her. "We all get nightmares sometimes."

"Yeah, it happens to the best of us," Iggy promises, and he's not lying. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I would swear I was back there. The smell of antispetic, the coldness of the metal of the cage freezing me to the bone, and the sheer terror of what happens next comes back to me like I never left.

This seems to cheer Nudge up a little bit, knowing she's not alone. Sometimes, I doubt if we're enough.

"I'm just gonna get some sleep, sorry about your shirt Iggy," Nudge apologizes.

Iggy gives her his lopsided grin. "Hey, I can't see it, so what does it matter?" he jokes and Nudge smiles a bit.

We leave Nudge in her room and shut the door behind us. Iggy sighs and rubs his eyes, "Scared the hell out of me."

"Same here," I agree.

"Well, I'm heading off to bed," Iggy says and heads to his own room.

I go to my own room and stare at the ceiling. I don't think I can go back to sleep though, I feel too awake.

Glancing at the clock, I see it's only 12 AM. Usually, I take random days once a week as my "day-off" as a vigilante and today was supposed to be one of those days, but since I can't sleep anyway, I decide to make myself useful.

I change into the same old black attire I wear every night I go out on patrol. A wry smile touches my face as I remember Max's comment about it not being the most creative costume out there.

Max.

As much as I'd love to run into her again, I really hope she doesn't need saving tonight, or any other night for that matter. But knowing her, she's bound to get herself into trouble agains sometime.

I jump out the window, unfurling my wings as I do. There is nothing like flying, nothing quite like soaring through the sky in the chilly night air. It almost makes me feel like I'm untouchable.

Almost, but not quite.

* * *

_MAX_

The mornings are evil. Seriously, there is no upside to being waken up by a bunch of monkeys jumping up and down your bed.

Okay, maybe it's not the _mornings_ that are evil, maybe it's the two little munchkins jumping on my bed right now that are evil.

"Guys!" I yell over their laughter. "There are easier way to wake someone up, you know."

"Maybe easier ways to wake _other_ people up, Max, but this is the easiest way to wake _you_ up," Angel giggles.

"Unless you count that time we poured cold water all over you, if you prefer that method, that can easily be arranged," Gazzy laughs.

Yeah, definitely the siblings that are evil.

"I'm up!" I tell them, desperate for the shaking to stop, "Seriously, it's like I'm getting seasick over here."

"You've never been out to sea," Gazzy points out.

I lie back down in bed and put a pillow over my face, pretending to be mad, but really it's so they won't see I'm smiling. "I give up!" I yell.

"Okay, that's enough," My Mom says from my doorway and Gazzy and Angel jump off my bed and run past her. No doubt going to grab all the chocolate chip cookies from the kitchen counter before I get there. Like I said, evil. Cute kids, but evil.

The pillow is pulled from my face and my Mom brings me out of bed. "Come on, Max. You're going to be late for school."

"But it's only Sunday, isn't it?"

My Mom rolls her eyes at me, but there's a small smile on her face, "It's Monday already, sweetie. Wake up and face it."

I do a mock solute, "Aye, Captain."

I take a quick shower and change into the jeans and t-shirt Mom has laid out for me.

I quickly run a brush through my hair and head quickly down to the kitchen, hoping that the munchkins haven't eaten all the cookies yet.

I make a mental list of all the things I have to do today, study again for a Biology test, return Ella's new _Boys Like Girls _CD, and meet up with Nudge for our English project, and pick up some groceries for Mom.

Looks like my day is just going to be _stellar._

* * *

_A/N. Okie dokie, now this was a little bit of a filler chapter, but something important to the next chapter was revealed here. Hopefully, if things go according to plan, I'll be able to update within a week._

_Leave a review!_

_Question of the Day: What are your Valentine's Day plans? (Personally, I'm just gonna hang out with my friends since Valentine's has always been my least favorite holiday, which is ironic because my birthday is on the very next day, Feb. 15. On the bright side, I get to go to a Paramore concert on my birthday *cue dorky dancing* which is beyond awesome)_

_-Indy_


	4. 04 The Brothers

_A/N. Whoa, okay not according to plan. Long list of reasons why, but again, not going to list them for you guys. Anyway, it's a little (okay, a lot) late, but here it is!_

* * *

**-Guardian Angel-**

Chapter 4: The Brothers

* * *

_MAX_

Sleep late and wake up early. Ladies and gentlemen, that's high school for you.

It's only been ten minutes into American History and I'm already beginning to feel the consequences of staying up late last night. It really doesn't help that Mr. Milton is probably one of the most boring teachers in history—no pun intended.

He's going on and on about some war—I don't even know what war we're discussing. The tone of his voice never changes, just a monotonous drawl that not even Lana Jenner, the shoe-in for valedictorian, can find interesting.

I draw a small cartoon version of Mr. Milton in my text book. He's relatively easy to draw, he's short, bald, and overweight. Nothing too complicated there. I draw in his beady little eyes and his glasses perched right on his beak shaped nose. I even make a small trail of drool leak out of the side of his mouth as if even he's bored with what's he's saying.

I hate teachers like this, who teach without really teaching anything. They get paid for what? For giving the students an hour of boredom where nothing goes in their heads? And they say grown-ups are supposed to be smart.

The kid beside me is beginning to doze off, and not in the discreet way either. His eyes are closing and his mouth is open slightly. I silently pray that Mr. Milton doesn't look up from his history book because if he does, this kid is so busted. And if Mr. Milton comes over here, he'd probably see my little doodle and then _I'd_ be in trouble. I can't even remember his name.

His blonde hair flops over his eyes and for a second I think he just might get away with the whole falling asleep thing.

I breathe a quiet sigh of relief. I'm in the clear.

Until his head bangs the desk.

Everybody's attention turns to him. The hand he was leaning on must have given out because his forehead's bright red from hitting his desk and suddenly he's not so tired anymore. Mr. Milton's eyes zoom in on him like a predator closing in on a prey.

The boy doesn't dare move, probably sensing the trouble he's in. I'd almost swear I see the corner of Mr. Milton's mouth lift slightly as if he enjoys punishing kids.

"Mr. Ride, were you sleeping during my class?" Mr. Milton asks.

Ride. Yeah, that sounds right. I know he's Nudge's adoptive brother.

"No, sir," the boy says.

"Then what were you doing?" Mr. Milton raises an eyebrow.

The boy shrugs his shoulders slightly, "Well you see sir, I am blind." He waves his hand in front of his face for effect. "I figured it didn't matter if I was looking in your general direction or not. It gets pretty tiring, you know? Always looking straight ahead without really seeing anything. I figured I'd take a different approach today and listen to you while facing my desk."

Some people snicker, including me.

Mr. Milton's face turns bright red and he tells the boy that he can look at his desk during detention after class if he wants to. Then his eyes flit to me, probably because I've still got a hint of a smile on my face, and he zeroes in on the pencil in my hand.

"Ms. Martinez, what are you writing?" he asks and I shrug slightly.

"Taking down notes, sir," I lie easily.

His eyebrows go up immediately as if he can sense he's got another victim. I pray silently that he doesn't come any closer to me because if he does he'll see his doodle and I'll be in so much trouble.

I should have closed my book when I had the chance.

"Maximum Martinez is taking down notes? I never thought I'd live to see the day. Alright then, what exactly is our topic today?" he asks.

My mind is racing, but I'm careful not to show that I don't know. I play it cool and curse to myself when I see nothing is written on the blackboard and most of my classmate's books aren't even open.

"Miss Martinez?" Mr. Milton repeats.

I look at Lana, hoping she'd mouth me the answer, but she isn't looking my way. "Screw this," I say instead and lean back, crossing my arms. "I have no idea. I was drawing a doodle of you that I know you'll hate and give me detention for so get it over with and just tell me I've got detention already."

Mr. Milton' eyebrows furrow, dangerously close to becoming a unibrow. He's obviously upset he didn't get to break the news to me like he did with Mr. Sleepy over there.

"Yes, detention with James Ride," he agreed.

So that's his name: James.

Eventually, Mr. Milton just goes back to his lecture and James gives me a thumps up. I would do the same, but he probably wouldn't see it and I didn't want to risk more detention days.

I take out a piece of paper from my notebook instead and start drawing again, but this time I wasn't going to draw Mr. Milton. No, I had a more...interesting character in mind.

Fang.

I try to picture his face in my mind, but I can't imagine it very clearly. The first time I saw his up close after he saved me, it was dark outside I could barely see his face. It didn't help that his mask covered most of the upper part of his face.

All I remember for sure was that he looked young, like my age kind of young. That fact really surprised me. I'm only fifteen years old, and if I'm right, he can't be that much older, yet he's out there saving people and making a difference and I'm...I'm sitting in school doing nothing.

I draw him mostly in the shadows with his face indistinct. The pencil becomes duller the more I shade, taking great care to capture the way his wings looked because they're the only things I remember for sure.

The bell rings just as I finish up with the sketch and I stuff it back into the notebook and lift my half-opened bag over my shoulder before I head out the door. I'm barely a few feet away when someone calls my name.

"Max!"

I turn around and see James and his brother, Nick, heading towards me. James gives me a big grin while his brother hangs behind him. They don't look related, with James' blonde hair and blue eyes and his brother's dark hair and dark eyes. Maybe they were all adopted, I know Nudge was.

I press my lips together slightly at the sight of Nick. Nick and I aren't exactly what you would call friends. We were partnered up together once on an English project where you had to "get to know your partner." We almost failed that project because Nick was always busy with _something._ Even now I can hear the endless number of excuses playing in my head: _It's an emergency, family thing; I've got to get to work, my shift starts in an hour; I've really got to go, maybe we can do it some other time?_

I know he wasn't lying a lot of the times, but still. The only reason we didn't fail is because _I_ did almost the entire paper by myself. I made up a bunch of stuff for what I learned about Nick. I'll admit I still kind of resent him for that.

"Hey, detention buddy!" James greets.

"Hey," I say. I also give a little wave to Nick. He just nods in acknowledgement, ever the silent type.

"Detention?" Nick raises an eyebrow at James.

"Yes, Nick, detention. You should have seen Max a while ago. She flat out told Mr. Milton she wasn't paying attention and that she drew a not so flattering picture of him," James laughs. He gives Nick a sideways glance with a slightly raised eyebrow while grinning at him. I can tell that for some reason that annoys Nick.

"Your brother was caught sleeping in class," I tell Nick.

Nick snorts, "Figures."

"I guess I'll see you in detention, James," I say.

"Iggy. No one calls me James," he says and I laugh.

"Iggy it is."

* * *

_A/N. And that is how Fang and Max know each other. The next chapter will be a direct continuation of this one but only in Fang's PoV (personally I'm really enjoying writing in the PoV of a vigilante). I'm halfway done so it should be up within the week this time._

_**IMPORTANT: **I need to know if you guys are still interested in the story or if you've lost interest. It's really important for me to know if people still actually want to read this thing.  
_

_Question of the Day: What's your favorite superhero pairing? (Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon for me)_

_-Indy_


	5. 05 Marshmallow

_A/N. I'm actually on time this time! Thanks for all the reviews and I'm really glad to hear that people are still interested in the story!_

* * *

**-Guardian Angel-**

Chapter 5: Marshmallow

* * *

_FANG_

School is strange for me to say the least, especially because its very name reminds me of another School, one which is much worse than any other school you can imagine.

Sometimes, like now, I'll be sitting in the middle of class and feel so out of place among the dozens of students around me. I can almost feel a giant neon sign above my head saying Avian Hybrid here! I half expect one of them to suddenly stand up, point at me and yell "You! You're Fang! The masked freak with wings!"

I'm probably being paranoid, but paranoia is something that just comes naturally when you've grown up in a laboratory your entire life.

The girl beside me, Lissa I think, smiles at me while the teacher's back is turned. "This is so boring. I'd rather kill myself than spend another minute in this class," she says.

It's obviously a joke. She's probably just trying to be friendly. I can't help the tiny surge of frustration that washes over me. She doesn't know what it means to rather kill yourself than do something. I'd take boring over living hell any day. I give the slightest of nods, but otherwise ignore her.

It's strange how so many people take for granted what I would've killed for my entire life: normalcy, a family, a home. I wonder if I would be the same if I had grown up like them.

I guess we'll never know.

The dismissal bell rings and we all clear out of the room. Well, most of them anyway. I decide to actually take a little time to fix my things instead of rushing out of the room like there's a fire.

I'm not the last one out, though. I give a brief nod to Mr. Hillsborough and exit the room.

The hall's filled with students, and by force of habit, I can't help but quickly scan the faces of everyone I can see. If I don't recognize a face, I take a little extra time to make sure they don't look…Eraser-y.

I involuntary shudder at the thought of an Eraser: half-wolf, half-human, full on monster. They were the School's star creations and our personal tormentors. Images of experiments thrown to Eraser like pieces of meat flash through my mind and I have to swallow to keep my lunch in.

It's not easy.

I'm so caught up in my thoughts I realize I'm not even paying attention to my surroundings. The thought only enters my mind for a second before I ran into another person.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Being careless like that could get me killed one day, no matter where I am. All it takes is one well-placed Eraser and it's goodbye, Fang.

I don't fall over of course, but I knocked the person down and her books and papers are scattered everywhere. I kneel down quickly and help picking them up.  
"I'm sorry," I apologize, "I wasn't looking."

"Obviously," the girl snaps.

I know that voice.

My head snaps up to see Maximum Martinez glaring at me and I apologize again. I would be just my luck to annoy her of all people. Dozens of papers are scattered everywhere and I feel a slight smile work its way onto my face; she certainly isn't the most organized person out there. Halfway through, something catches my attention.

A few papers had fallen out of her notebook, sketches obviously, but one in particular catches my attention.

She's too busy picking up the rest of her things to notice what I'm looking at.

I can tell she's very good, picking up incredible detail with just a pencil. I pick up the drawing that caught my eye.

It's a man whose face you can barely make out except for his mask because he's hidden in the shadows. Dark wings extend from his back and you can see each feather drawn in with great detail.

For a second I forget how to breathe.

It's me.

Max notices me holding the drawing and quickly snatches it away from me. She sticks it into one of her many notebooks and I can see a faint blush on her cheeks.

"A fan of Fang, huh?" I can't help but say.

"It's just a drawing," she says.

"You're very good," I compliment, but she just shrugs it off.

"I've seen better," she tells me and all of a sudden stands up after stuffing everything into her bag.

"So have you ever met Fang?" I ask her.

She glares at me, "Feeling awfully chatty today, aren't you?"

I shrug, "He's pretty cool though. Hero and whatnot."

She's walking away already, probably desperate to stop the conversation about Fang, but I want to hear more. I want to know what she thinks of my alter-ego.

"He's okay," she says in a clipped tone.

This is probably one of my first times to actually be the one to keep a conversation going. It's not easy. "Okay? He's pretty awesome if you ask me."

"Good thing I'm not asking you then," she says and makes a point of walking away again. This time, I don't follow her.

I have the sneaking suspicion that she hates me, or at least strongly dislikes me, which kind of sucks.

But hey, this is me we're talking about. Since when did anything ever go my way?

* * *

_IGGY_

Including this one, I've had a total of two months detention, Well, two months a week, but who's counting?

Personally, I don't mind. I'm not serious and quiet like Fang, and I'm not the braniac Nudge is in school. I'm just Iggy, the loud class clown who decided he actually wanted to enjoy these little flashes of normality while he still had it.

So even "punishments" (which aren't really punishments at all, in my opinion) like detention, I find enjoyable.

Ah, being locked in a dog cage most of your life certainly does have its benefits.

I'll get back to you when I think of any more.

"Mr. Ride, back again?" Mrs. Carlson asks me.

I nod, grin on my face. "What can I say? There's a certain charm to being stuck doing nothing for an hour."

She leads me to the seat next to Max and I take a seat.

"Hey!" I greet, turning in what I hope is her general direction.

"Hi," she says.

I'm grinning again because I'm thinking about Fang's little crush on Max. Ever since they worked together on that project he's been infatuated with her, which I found very interesting considering Fang's supposed to be an emotionless brick wall.

I wasn't surprised though, I always told Nudge that underneath the dark brooding exterior was a great big mushy softie inside, like a roasted marshmallow.  
Marshmallow, I should keep that in mind next time I talk to Fang. It will definitely annoy him.

"You're brother's a pain," she says suddenly, and I hear the sound of her closing her text book.

Usually, when people talk to me for the first time they ask about the whole being blind thing. It gets kind of annoying after a while, having to answer the same question over and over again. Most of the time I just tell them that I was born like that instead of saying some psychotic scientists tried to give me enhanced night vision. Asking me what it's like not to see if like asking you what it's like not to have a third arm, you know? I lost my sight when I was a toddler, I don't really remember what it's like to see. Being blind is all I remember; it's hard to miss something you never really had.

So to talk about something _other_ than my "problem" was refreshing.

"He's not so bad," I tell her.

"He's all closed off when we're supposed to get to know each other and when I was trying to be nice to him and now he's suddenly Mr. Friendly just because he saw my sketch of-" She pauses mid-sentence and I raise an eyebrow. "He saw my sketch."

"Yeah, Nick's difficult sometimes," I agree.

"I swear he was mocking me about it," she says.

"I doubt it," I say. "He's just not very good with his people skills."

"You can say that again," she mutters.

I try to think of a way to help Fang with his dream girl. I rack my brains for someway to explain Fang to her, but it's not exactly easy. Fang is Fang, but I doubt that'd be a good enough explanation. "He's a marshmallow," I blurt out and I have a feeling she's looking at me strangely.

"What?"

I scratch the back of my head and shrug, "It sounded a lot better in my head."

"Obviously," she laughs.

I give an apologetic smile and shrug again, "He's better once you get to know him. And once you do, I swear you'll get the marshmallow comment."

"If you say so, but I've got to do my homework, so if you don't mind..." she trails off.

"Oh, sure," I say and turn away from her.

I make a mental note not to tell Fang about this little conversation later. For some reason I don't think he'll appreciate me telling Max that he's a marshmallow.

* * *

_A/N. First Iggy PoV in the story! It probably won't be the last though. In case any of you are wondering, Fang, Iggy, and Nudge all have wings. Max, Gazzy, and Angel are all human._

_Oh and guess what? On Friday, April 26, it will officially be my third year on FanFiction which is really awesome. I'm planning on releasing a one-shot or something. Do any of you have any suggestions/prompts?_

_Question of the Day: Do you prefer to read Maximum Ride fanfics where they have wings or fanfics where they're all-human? (I read both kinds, it really depends on the actual story for me)_

_-Indy_


	6. 06 Freaks

_A/N. Sorry about the wait, I've had this chapter done for a while but for some reason FanFiction wouldn't let me login. Anyway, enjoy!_

_-Edit- I've reuploaded this a few times because for some reasons no alerts are being sent out to the people who follow the story._

* * *

**-Guardian Angel-**

Chapter 6: Freaks

* * *

_FANG_

"You're going out again, aren't you?" Nudge asks behind me.

I'm just about to put my mask on when I turn around. "Yup," I reply.

Nudge shakes her head angrily at me. "Look, Fang, I get why you're doing this, okay? It's a noble cause. You save people and catch bad guys, but you can't keep doing this. How long do you think you can do this before the School gets to us? They didn't make that many kids with wings, you know."

"People need me," I tell her.

"No, they don't. They were doing just fine when you weren't going all superhero on them. They have the police for that. You know you are being so selfish. We finally have a shot at being normal and you're throwing it all away just to feel good about yourself."

I purse my lips and keep my face neutral. I've had this conversation with Nudge before. I've explained all of this to her before. "And I suppose all the people I've saved mean nothing so far?"

Before she can speak Iggy peaks his head in my door. "Hey, I can hear you guys from my room. Are you fighting again?"

Nudge turns to Iggy and points an accusing finger at me, "Iggy, will you please talk some sense into him." Then she turns to me and says, "You keep saying you do this to help people, but what about us, Fang? How is this helping us? You are putting us in danger and I don't care if that sounds selfish because after everything we've been through we deserve to be just a little selfish don't you think? We finally have a chance to live a happy, normal life and I'm not going to let you throw it all away."

Iggy places a hand on Nudge's shoulder in an attempt to calm her down, but she shrugs it off.

"By putting on a mask, by going out there every night and playing super hero, by actually doing something, I help people. It makes me feel like maybe there is some good to having a pair of wings grafted onto your back," I explain.

Nudge waves her hand in a dismissive gesture. "There is nothing good to having a pair of wings grafted onto your back. I swear to God I would cut them off if I could. The more you do this, the more you just remind all of us of what we are: freaks. We are freaks, Fang. We have the opportunity not to be freaks and you don't seem to care."

"Nudge-" Iggy begins.

"No! One day you are going to get us all thrown back into a cage if you don't stop. So I'm asking you to stop, please," Nudge says.

I know she's made valid points. I know exactly how dangerous this is and I'm almost tempted to agree and just go on being what I've never been: normal.

But that's the thing right there. I'm not normal. I never have been and I never will be. If there's anything positive about having wings, any upside to it, I'm going to take it. The only thing that's kept my sane is the fact that something good can come from such evil.

I think of every single experiment I've watched die, every single child that was tortured in that hell house. I think of all the desperate moments filled with so much pain that I wished I would die. I think of every cruel act the White Coats did in the name of science.

I have to make it mean something. All that pain and suffering and death has to be for something.

"I'm sorry, Nudge, I really am. I'm sorry you were experimented on, but this is who we are. This is who I am. If you don't get it, I can't make you understand," I say quietly.

"You're right," she says coldly. "I don't understand." Then she pushes Iggy out of her way roughly and I can hear her bedroom door slam.

"What about you?" I ask Iggy. "Are you against what I'm doing, too?"

Iggy pauses and takes a breath. "Honestly, I don't know. I get why you're doing it, but sometimes it's just easier to forget everything, you know? All I know is that, you're good at what you do, we haven't been found yet either. I also know that you really are helping people and that's enough for me. If it's any consolation though, I'm pretty sure I'd be doing the same thing if I could see."

I give him a slight smile even though he can't see it, "Thanks, Ig."

"No problem, man. Nudge will come around," he promises. "Now get out there and kick some bad guy butt, Batman."

"Batman?" I raise an eyebrow.

He shrugs as he walks out of my room, "Well you don't strike me as a Superman."

I shake my head in amusement and put on my mask. Without a sound, I'm gone.

* * *

_MAX_

I tuck Angel into bed and smooth her curls. "Mom's working late again, but she'll be home soon," I tell her.

Angel nods, "How come Mom won't let me go to Jenifer's party tomorrow?"

"Because no one can take you, Mom's going to work and I've got a project to work on," I explain.

She pouts, "It's only a few blocks away! I can walk there by myself! I'm eleven years old already," she argues.

I sigh and say, "I know, but Mom's extra worried because of all the missing kids lately."

Angel's still pouting and giving _me_ the bambi eyes like I can do something about it. "She worries too much."

I kiss her forehead and go to turn off the light. "That's only cause she loves you."

"It's 'cause of the men with the weird eyes, isn't it?" she asks me.

I raise an eyebrow, "Men with the weird eyes?"

She nods, "There are a lot of them now. They look normal but they have weird eyes."

I chuckle and shake my head. "I'm sure they do," I say and turn off the light.

Sometimes my siblings come up with the weirdest things. Last time, it was a story of how Angel fed her snack to a talking dog in the park who can also jump twenty feet in the air with bird wings. Mom always says they watch too much TV and that they should cut back on it, but I think it's cute. Having a great imagination never hurt anyone.

But still, there was something about what Angel said that bothered me. _Men with weird eyes._ That's just plain creepy.

I hear the front door open and Mom's voice. I shake Angel's words out of my head and sigh. _Kids._

* * *

_Another chapter done! I'm already starting to build up the plot, any guesses as to where it's going? Also, I'm having a hard time making a "cover" design for this story so anyone's help would really help!_

_Question of the Day: Who's your favorite TV character? (I have too many)_

_-Indy_


	7. 07 Progress

_A/N. I can't believe I've already gotten 93 reviews! That's seriously awesome, thank you! I really appreciate it, you guys. Anyway, as you can see the story finally has a cover. What do you guys think? Pretty cool, right?_

_And special thanks to Head Over Heels is Standing! I really appreciated the cover you sent in._

* * *

**-Guardian Angel-**

Chapter 7: Progress

* * *

_FANG_

You know how it's weird when you hear people talk about you behind your back? Not even necessarily saying bad things, but just talking about you in general. Well, that's what I was hearing right now.

"Fang is so cool. I mean he's like an _actual _superhero, except minus the skin tight costume and cape," a blonde girl said.

Here I am, just minding my own business while eating my lunch and I hear a bunch of girls _gushing_ about me. Well, not me exactly, but my alter ego, which is just as disturbing.

"Not that I'd mind if it _was _skin tight," the girl's friend pipes up.

_Oh Lord._

"I'm just glad he's not like those old superheroes in the comics that wear their underwear on the outside," another one of her friends, a brunette, says.

They all laugh, "Now _that'd_ be dorky."

They have no idea that the guy they're talking about is right within earshot of them. I don't know whether it's a good thing they don't know or a bad thing. On the one hand, they probably wouldn't be speaking so..._freely_ about their opinions, but on the other hand, they look like the type to throw themselves at anyone who's even a slight celebrity.

I pray to God that I never have to find out.

The blonde girl smirks, "Which begs the question: do you think Fang is a boxers or briefs kind of guy?"

Okay, I've heard enough. There's only so much my ears can take.

I look somewhat regretfully down at my unfinished food, but all that talk about me made me lose my appetite. Plus, I've recently heard some say that Mrs. Louis' mystery meat isn't even meat, which killed whatever appetite I had left.

As I exit the cafeteria, I take one last glance at the giggling girls who sat next to my table and I make a face.

_Boxers or briefs._

Seriously, who cares? And two, why the_ heck_ would they want to know?

I save peoples lives and _that's _what they're thinking about? No wonder so many people need saving.

I head to my locker to grab some books so I can get some extra studying in when I pass Max, who strangely, is also rummaging through her locker. I can tell she's organizing something and when I realize what it is, I can't help but to go over to her.

"What's that?" I ask.

She gives a slight jump and looks at me with wide eyes like I appeared out of nowhere. "Quit doing that," she orders.

I shrug, pretending not to know what she's talking about. "Quit what: breathing?"

She rolls her eyes at me. "Giving people heart attacks! You can make some sound when you move, you know," she says.

_If I had a nickel for every time I heard someone say that…_

I choose not to respond to that. It's not my fault I move that way; it's just the way I am. It's not like I intentionally sneak up on people. Instead, I repeat my first question. "What's that?" I ask, gesturing to the flyers in her hands.

"Not sketches if that's what you're after," she mutters, obviously still upset about the whole Fang sketch thing.

In my defense, I was _not_ mocking her. I'm still not sure whether to be happy or upset that she likes my alter ego over the real me.

I sigh and raise an eyebrow at her. Finally, she relents.

Max's face grows serious as she pulls one flyer out for me to see. "It's a girl from my neighborhood; she's been missing for a few days. My Mom and I volunteered to hang some flyers around."

I recognize the girl from the news: Callie Edgecomb. In the picture, her bright blonde hair is tied into two neat pigtails and she's smiling so wide that you can clearly see her missing front teeth.

She's the sixth kid to go missing in eight months.

The police don't know if they're all related because none of the kids really have anything in common. They're all different backgrounds, different races, and different ages. I had Nudge hack into the police files a while back to download the case files of the missing kids. Maybe they're right and they're not related. Maybe they were all taken by different people.

But something in my gut tells me otherwise.

Either way, these kids need to be found.

"She's only six year old and her mom's worried sick. After school I was going to post some and hand out the others," she tells me. "My Mom was supposed to meet up with me and help, but an emergency at work came up."

"I could help," I offer.

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You want to help?"

"Of course I do, if it will help find the girl," I say.

Then slow smile spreads across her face and I can feel a small one on mine, too. "You might not be so bad after all, Nick," she says.

"Thanks?" I say uncertainly.

She laughs and I think this is the first time I've ever made Maximum Martinez laugh as Nick Ride. "It's a compliment, trust me," she assures me.

I shrug, "If you say so."

"Meet me after class. Bring some tape or a stapler, if you can," she says.

"Sure thing," I say and we hear the bell ring.

I realize that I never did make it to my locker to study, but I don't really mind. "See you later," she says and I nod before heading to class while she goes the other way.

"Oh and Nick!" She calls just before she reaches the end of the hall. "Thanks."

I just give another nod and she goes on her way.

I start to think that maybe, _maybe_ I'm making progress with Max as Nick Ride and not as Fang.

I sure hope I am.

* * *

_A/N. Max and Fang progress! At least she's not scowling at him anymore, haha. I orignally wanted to continue to them hanging the flyers, but I realized it'd get too long, so that's for the next chapter._

_I have another new story out called _Don't Drink and Be Fang. _Please check it out and leave a review, I should also be posting a new chapter to it soon after I post this chapter._

_Also tell me what you think of the cover!_

_Question of the Day: What's your favorite horror movie? (I loved the Final Destination movies, also the Scream movies)_

_-Indy_


	8. The Stranger

_A/N. I've reached over 100 reviews! This is awesome, thank you guys so much. Keep up the reviews! They really brighten up my day._

_Special shout out to DarkBloodyAngelOfAbyss for being the 100th reviewer!_

* * *

**-Guardian Angel-**

Chapter 8: The Stranger

* * *

_MAX_

I can't say I knew Callie very well, because I didn't. She was just always…there.

On the way walking to school: she's riding her bright pink bike with the purple basket in front. Taking out the trash: she's playing in her yard with her dog Dotty. Looking out the kitchen window: she's hanging out with Missy Stevens who's her next door neighbor.

She's always been there, a cute six-year old who doesn't have a care in the world. She was always laughing and skipping everywhere she went.

Then suddenly she wasn't.

Whenever I check the yard opposite to ours, it's just silence. And the most disturbing part is that she looks so much like Angel.

Same blonde hair, about the same age, and they even _act_ similarly.

I can't help picturing Angel's picture on the flyers instead of Callie's. It's not hard. They have the same blonde hair, they're about the same age, and they even _act_ similarly. It's unnerving to think about it…

"_Max?" _a voice says and brings me back to reality.

I blink, "What?"

Nick shakes his head at me, a slight smirk playing on his face. "I asked if you could hand me the tape," he repeated.

"Oh," I say sheepishly, handing him the tape and scissors that I'm holding. "I zone out a lot, sorry about that. I know how annoying that can be."

"It's fine," he says as he secures the flyer to the pole.

I laugh, "You say that now because it's just the first time you've seen it happen. Give it a few more times and then it will start getting annoying."

He gives me a half-smile as we walk to the bus stop to post the next flyer and says, "If you say so. What were you thinking about anyway?"

It's at the tip of my tongue to say, "_None of your business,_" but I restrain myself. Nick was actually pretty nice, not the total douchebag he came across as while we were doing our project. "I was just thinking that Callie and Angel look a lot alike."

He raised a questioning eyebrow at me and I realized he probably didn't know who Angel was—something he _would've_ known if he had actually done that English paper with me, but I digress.

"I have two younger siblings, Angel and Tommy, who we affectionately refer to as the Gasman," I say. Before he can send me another questioning look, I add, "You don't want to know, word to the wise, though: _stay upwind._"

"I'll keep that in mind," he says. "So, how old are they?"

"Angel's seven and Gazzy's eight, average age of all the kids that have been disappearing lately," I muse out loud.

I must have looked like I was going to zone out again because Nick nudged me with his elbow. "Hey, I'm sure they'll be fine."

"Yeah," I agree, trying to convince myself more than him, "You're right."

He shakes his head at me again, black bangs falling over his eyes. "Wow, I never thought I'd hear those words from you. Mind repeating them?"

I suppress a smile and pretend to be annoyed at him, "Shut up."

"Seriously, just want to make sure I heard right."

"You suck. Haven't you reached you're daily word limit or something?" I say as I hand him another flyer to post.

He chuckles as he tapes it to the wall and I can't help but think that it sounds oddly familiar. That can't be right though because A) Nick barely laughs. When he pissed me off during the project, I liked to think his facial muscles didn't fully develop as a baby and therefore stuck in a permanently impassive expression, and B) this is the first time I've spent more than five minutes with the guy where I _wasn't_ scowling at him.

I brush it off, I'm just being ridiculous. "That's the last of them," I say instead. "Thanks for helping again."

He shrugs and puts his hands in his jean pockets, "No problem." Then, he adds, "That means you owe me now."

I gape at him for a second before raising an eyebrow, "_I _owe _you?_ Nu-uh, you still owe me. Don't think you're off the hook about that project."

Nick winces slightly at that, "You are never going to let that go, are you?"

"I pulled _two_ all-nighters to get that project done. I repeat _two _nights without sleep. You have no idea how tired I was after that," I say indignantly.

"I think I might." Before I can reply he says, "I'm sorry, alright?"

"Fine, I guess we can call it even then. I did our project and you…" I begin to say, but something behind Nick catches my attention.

It's a man wearing a suit and I have no idea why I find myself still looking at him. There's just something…off. He's talking on his phone animatedly when he faces my direction. That's when I see it and I can't help but frown and blink to make sure I'm seeing right.

His eyes. There was something _wrong_ with his eyes. It was like looking at one of those "Find the Difference" pictures. You know something is wrong, but you just can't put your finger on it. Maybe it was the lighting or maybe he was wearing contacts or—

_Men with the weird eyes._

I felt my mouth go dry.

"Max? Are you okay?" Nick's voice breaks my train of thought and my eyes snap back to his.

"What?" I ask and shake my head, trying to clear my head. "It's just there's this guy right behind you, there's something about him that's bothering me, but I can't put my finger on it."

Nick turns around before I even finish my sentence, quickly scanning the crowd, but the man is gone.

"He was there a minute ago," I tell him, looking around myself, feeling slightly embarrassed.

When Nick turns back to me, his face is as impassive as ever. "Well he's gone now."

I nod, still slightly bothered.

"Well there's an ice cream place around the corner, we can get some before heading home," Nick says.

"Sure," I reply and we start walking away.

We fall into a slight debate over which is the best ice cream flavor: chocolate or vanilla (chocolate, _duh.)_ Still, as we talk, I can't help but look back and have Angel's words echo in my head.

_Men with the weird eyes._

* * *

_A/N. *Cue dramatic music* And the plot thickens..._

_On a brighter note, Maxie and Fangie bonding time! What did you guys think of it?_

_Question of the Day: Any music recommendations? (I'm looking for more stuff to listen to)_

_-Indy_


End file.
